The days passed in a steady rhythm, each morning beginning with training that left Zane aching in ways he hadn't thought possible. Cassiel was relentless, pushing him beyond what he thought were his limits. At first, every session ended with Zane sprawled on the ground, gasping for breath while Cassiel barely looked winded. But gradually, something changed. His footwork became smoother, his movements more controlled. He stopped flinching at every strike and instead began seeing openings before they happened. He wasn't anywhere close to Cassiel's level, but the gaps in skill were slowly—painfully—closing.
Between training sessions, Zane spent more time with Cassiel in a way that felt less like duty and more like camaraderie. The prince, despite his noble bearing, was beginning to lower the walls he had built around himself. At night, they sat together in the castle's study, Cassiel poring over maps and military strategies while Zane half-heartedly attempted to follow along, pretending to care about battle formations when his mind was more focused on how sore his muscles would be in the morning. Other times, Cassiel would take him through the castle's grounds, pointing out various locations of interest, from the vast gardens to the armory stocked with weapons Zane had never even seen before.
Liana's visits became more frequent as well. Each time she arrived, it was with an energy that disrupted whatever order Cassiel tried to impose. She took a particular joy in dragging Zane off on impromptu 'adventures,' whether it was sneaking out to the city for street food or climbing the castle's watchtowers just to admire the view. She was full of stories about Cassiel as a child, stories that Cassiel did his best to stifle but failed miserably to contain.
"Did he tell you about the time he got stuck in a tree for an entire day?" she laughed one afternoon, leading Zane through one of the castle's corridors while Cassiel trailed behind with an exasperated sigh. "His father forbade him from climbing, so naturally, he thought it was a great idea to do it anyway. He got all the way to the top, and then… well, he looked down."
Zane smirked, casting a glance over his shoulder. "Did he jump?"
"Oh, absolutely not," Liana said with a dramatic wave of her hand. "He started shouting for help so loud that the entire castle thought we were under attack."
Cassiel groaned. "Are you finished?"
Liana ignored him. "And then when the guards finally climbed up to get him down, he was so embarrassed that he refused to speak to anyone for an entire week."
Zane doubled over in laughter, while Cassiel simply pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something about treacherous childhood friends.
Liana's presence added a strange but welcome balance to Zane's days. Her teasing forced Cassiel into something more relaxed, more human, and in turn, it made Zane feel as though he had truly become part of something here. There was an ease in the way they all interacted, an unspoken understanding between the three of them that made the days blur together in a way that almost made Zane forget that his time here had an expiration date.
But that expiration date finally came.
One evening, just as the sun was beginning to set and Zane was cleaning up after another grueling training session, the air in the courtyard shifted. There was no great spectacle, no dramatic arrival—just the casual opening of a door that should not have been there.
Azrael stepped through as though he had always belonged there, his ever-present amused expression playing on his lips. His usual sleeveless attire and harem-style pants billowed slightly in the evening breeze as he strolled forward, his gaze flicking briefly to Cassiel before settling on Zane.
"Ah," he mused. "Still alive, I see."
Zane, wiping sweat from his brow, exhaled a breath of exhaustion. "Barely."
Cassiel, standing beside him, folded his arms. "You certainly took your time returning."
Azrael smiled, unbothered as always. "Time is relative. Besides, I had things to do." His gaze slid toward Zane again, eyeing him up and down with vague interest. "You seem… sturdier."
Zane didn't know whether to take that as a compliment or not.
Azrael turned his attention back to Cassiel, his expression unreadable but his voice light. "I assume he hasn't been too much trouble?"
Cassiel glanced at Zane before answering. "He was rough at first. Sloppy. Reckless. Stubborn."
Zane huffed. "Gee, thanks."
Cassiel smirked slightly before continuing. "But he learns quickly. He still has a long way to go, but he's not the same fighter he was when he arrived."
Azrael gave an approving nod, as though that had been the expected answer all along. "Good. Then I suppose it's time we left."
Zane hesitated, glancing between them. Despite everything—the pain, the endless drills, the early mornings that stretched into exhausting nights—he had grown comfortable here. More comfortable than he would have expected.
Cassiel must have noticed because he placed a firm hand on Zane's shoulder. "You'll be fine," he said, a quiet certainty in his voice. "We'll meet again."
Zane nodded, not trusting himself to speak just yet.
Azrael, however, was already turning toward the door he had stepped through. "Come along then," he said. "The Afterlife isn't going to run itself."
With a final glance at Cassiel, Zane stepped forward, following Azrael through the threshold.
And just like that, he was gone.